


Our Design

by A_Writer_of_Whimsy



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Attempted Murder, Cannibalism, M/M, Medical Procedures, Medical Trauma, Murder, Rape/Non-con Elements, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 01:53:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4503270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Writer_of_Whimsy/pseuds/A_Writer_of_Whimsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will knows on some level that he's not making it out of this encounter intact. But then again, neither is Dr. Lecter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Design

In a tiny Florida beachside shack, Will Graham pours another shot of whiskey into a tumbler. He tilts his head back, swallowing the burning liquid with ease. The stubble on his face catches an ember drop. Will licks it away, his tongue rough. He hears the buzzing of his cell phone behind him, Jack Crawford's ID blinking on the screen. Ignoring it, the broken man walks on bare feet over to his kitchen. 

Memories of his wife and son taunt him. Willy eating at the table, trying to get Will to see him do something with his new models. Molly fighting with him as dinner burned. The both of them standing there as Molly tells Will she loves him, but she can't stay anymore. 

He doesn't prepare anything elegant. Just a simple sandwich, ham and cheese. Debating over his day, of either suicide or fishing, a knock interrupts his musings. With a small groan he forces his lacking muscles up and moving. He reaches the door, aware he looks like hell but completely uncaring. 

Later, he would hate himself for not at least bothering to look through the peephole. 

Swinging open the thin board, he gets two seconds to take in the sight of Hannibal Lecter smiling at him. 

"Hello, Will." 

A baseball bat connects to his head. Lights out. 

~~~

The fractious sounds he makes upon awakening are like that of a wounded animal. He tugs at bindings on his wrists and ankles. Will rocks left and right, trying to see around him, only to realize his eyes must be covered. Cold, all over. He sucks in a breath, noticing how nude he is, with only a sheet covering him from the hips down. 

"You haven't taken very good care of yourself, Will," says Hannibal. "After the detox, we'll talk about such behaviors, as I do not approve of such distasteful excess." 

Will feels a prick in his arm. "You escaped from Chilton. I guess that's what Jack was trying to call me about." 

"Yes, most likely." Hannibal puts a band aid over the entry point. "He still feels guilty for ever pairing us together." 

"As he should," Will says without true venom. "Detox can take weeks. Can you afford such an investment?" 

A small kiss is placed on his forehead. "I do have other things to prepare. Passports and such. In the meantime, rest. The worst is yet to come." 

The worst involves a blur of fevers, slight seizures, throwing up into different sized bins, and a ton of needles. Will doesn't get out of his bindings except to use the restroom or take a bath. Hannibal doesn't leave his side, even as Will pisses or shits, he's right there. They take baths together, with Will crying softly as Hannibal spreads the soap over his body, getting intimately familiar with every crevice. 

"Let me go," Will begs, shouts, bargains, over and over. 

The answer remains the same. "Never." 

~~~

The airplane ride to Paris requires the use of two fake passports, as Will gets officially declared missing three days into Hannibal's grasp. Will waits in line, hands shaking but his mind much less cluttered from the fog of alcohol. Beside him, Hannibal reads the paper, catching up on his final project for the F.B.I., the Buffalo Bill case. 

"What makes you think I won't try to escape?" Will asks, daring but not serious. 

Hannibal tsks at him from behind the papers. "This isn't my first kidnapping, Will. Your own curiosity keeps you trapped here. Nothing imprisons a person more than their own sense of wonder, just as it sets them free from conventions."

Will sighs. "Why don't you just kill me?" He brings a hand up to rub at his scar.

"I've shattered this teacup once or twice, but I will always pick your pieces back up." Hannibal folds his paper up and tucks it under his elbow. With a strong hand, he took Will's away from his face. "It's time to put you up for display."

"So you'll pretty me up is what you're saying." Will shakes his head. "Of course, make the damage so deep I'd need you to fix me. Some things never change." 

Hannibal's lips upturn into a shameless smile. "Until they do." 

~~~

Hannibal fucks with, as in all things, an attention to detail. Though his partner fights him from the bathroom to the bed, he manages not to harm. Throughout the whole ordeal of getting Will onto his stomach, hips canted up at the right angle, Hannibal never stops caressing or kissing. The fight takes energy, which Will has in short supply from the process of ridding his body of liquor. 

All too soon, he's panting face first into the bed, unable to keep up his protests. Hannibal rakes his teeth down Will's back, eliciting frantic moans. 

"This is inevitable," Hannibal murmurs against the skin. "You may never ask for it, but I shall provide it anyway." 

As expected, Will doesn't say anything. 

Lubing himself up requires a certain amount of challenge, but Hannibal succeeds. As he pushes inside of Will, a high keening note echoes off the suite walls. The doctor takes his time, rocking into his captive inch by inch, all the while Will squirms under his hold and clawing at the bed sheets. Hannibal loosens his hold as he starts thrusting in earnest, for Will's hips are meeting his, his slim back arching in pleasure. 

Roaming over the spaces between Will's shoulder blades, Hannibal's hands leave no skin untouched. He smooths over the flanks, feeling them clench with each intrusion. He memorized the movement of Will's upper thighs straining to force himself up and shifting back. In this position, the control belongs to Hannibal, but that doesn't mean Will can't participate. 

Taking the slim cock in his hand, Hannibal pumps Will up and down, lube still on his hands. Trembling turns into full body tremors. Will gasps erratically, a sure sign he's trying to delay his orgasm. But under the hands of a master, all too quickly Will comes. 

Before the night is over, Hannibal makes sure Will comes a second time. When he does the scream is hardly muffled by the pillows. 

~~~

Cleaning his lover up after their couplings becomes Hannibal's new favorite pastime. The act of sex itself, of course, provides him with a means to enjoy Will. However, being able to wipe away the sweat, cum, and tears settles something inside his chest. 

"How come you never did this before?" Will asks him one day, his hand trying to cover the scar of Hannibal's betrayal across his torso. 

Hannibal shoves the hand aside, sliding down to place open mouthed kisses across the line. "Because before it didn't appeal to me. I wanted your mind alone, all to myself." 

"What changed?" Will never caresses him back, merely lays on the bed while Hannibal finishes. 

"I lost my freedom, and I realized it was a missed opportunity. I regretted not taking you apart in every sense." Hannibal rises up, wet towel in hand. "I'm rectifying that oversight." 

Will curls up on his side, eyes drooping and ready for sleep. "The inelegance of mating with someone below you must've been another reason." 

"Not below me. I never saw you as inferior." Hannibal's weight sinks into the oversized bed, "And I believed intercourse would put you below me, would somehow ruin the vessel that housed your mind." 

"But you don't think so now?" Arms wrap around Will's waist, pulling him close. 

"Hmmm, my cock inside you doesn't defeat you, it simply animates your mind to turn to me in a different manner." Hannibal kisses the back of Will's nape. "I expect it won't save me from your retribution." 

"It won't." Will whispers, voice soft with sleep. 

~~~

The revenge comes in a form that Will thinks is rather clever. Hannibal returns from his job to find Will in bed with someone else. The position has Will on the man's lap, facing directly at the door. Will smiles at Hannibal over the man's shoulder as he lets this stranger fuck him into the headboard.

On impulse, Hannibal kills the man, bashing his brains in with a decanter. Will gets a decent stab of some kind of knife into Hannibal's chest. 

"Quid pro quo," Will taunts him with as he gets dressed.

He runs off into the night with money in his pockets and his fake passport. He boards a train to take him to the American Embassy. There he can contact Quantico and Jack. He only makes it two train stops before the police grab him. Hannibal called him in as a thief. 

A week later, Hannibal bails him out of jail. The charges are dropped, a tale spins about a misunderstanding over a petty fight. Will returns to their home with dread in his gut. The punishment for his transgression includes a dinner made entirely of the murdered man. 

~~~

It takes time to heal. Hannibal can't touch Will for months, his eyes sparking with outrage over the memory of betrayal. Will refuses to pretend he's sorry, instead opting to throw the possibility of it happening again in Hannibal's face. 

"Do you want me to kill you, Will?" Hannibal asks, his hands clenching into fists while his face remains stoic.

"Why not?" Will motions to the room around them. "Do you really think this fairy tale can last? It's only a matter of time before you kill me, chop me up, throw me into some stew or another."

"I would never put you in such a simple dish." Hannibal says with absolute certainty. "I love you, Will, the dish would have to be one fit for a wedding." 

"Your sense of humor gets worse as time goes on." But it works, Will deflates, bringing his hurts closer together just to finish with, "I would much rather you just got it over with. There's no way you can keep loving me forever, Hannibal. You'll get bored. I'll become tedious. That's how relationships work, on tedium." 

Hannibal shakes his head. "That's not how we have to be. I can keep you on your toes, just as you can keep me on mine. We are we, the only two there shall ever be." 

Will sighs. "Why is it no matter what we do to each other we can't just fall into hate?" 

"Because our hearts don't reside in a world so mundane. We both forage in the forests of higher cognitive reasoning. Hatred usually exists for those of us without understanding of true natures." Hannibal walks over to rubs his knuckles against Will's cheek. "You see me, and I see you." 

Exhausted, Will merely nods, taking Hannibal's hand to lead him towards the bedroom.

~~~

Three years later, the golden ringlets on their fingers feel more like a formality than a reflection of devotion. Will finds their scars more telling of their relationship, along with the bruises and bite marks of the day to day struggles. He sips on a coffee, overlooking the sea through a window. The Italian coast glitters day and night. 

Hannibal prepares them something for brunch, most likely a seasoned bratwurst with poached eggs and toast. The kitchen is always busy. Their freezer in the basement is full of a Hungarian singer that ruined an opera. 

"The world seems so far away here." Will says, mostly just talking to himself. 

Hannibal brings the plates out onto the veranda. "We've crafted this microcosm to keep the world away. Your feelings tell me we've succeeded."

"A place away from morality." Will laughs under his breath as he finishes off his espresso. "This is our design."  


End file.
